


Learning Your Lessons

by Omoni



Series: Abovetale [3]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Asgore/Toriel-centric, Domestic Undertale, F/F, F/M, Gen, Undertale Spoilers, can be read as a stand-alone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-24
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-22 22:32:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6096103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omoni/pseuds/Omoni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So this one went on and on (and on and on) so I've decided to cut it into two pieces. Now, onto the main points: </p><p>This occurs after the TRUE PACIFIST ENDING, which means all the spoilers (including much from the Chara timeline that may or may not be accurate but which my mind pieced together and decided it worked, so...eheh?). </p><p>Frisk is definitely a main character in this one, but what surprised me while writing this were two others: Asgore and Toriel. In fact, this ended up as an entire fic about them, about their past, their present, and their future – especially involving Frisk. So if Asgore/Toriel isn't quite your thing, you should probably avoid this?</p><p>Things to remember: this fic takes place over a span of two to three years, hence the integration of humans and monsters later on. So by the time the fic is over, I would estimate that Frisk would be about 12. I have chosen to keep Frisk AND Chara gender-neutral as in the game, but feel free to tack on whatever gender you wish, as it can go either way (isn't that the point of Frisk, anyway? ).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

If he didn't know any better, he would have sworn that she had just used ice magic on him. Why else would he be so frozen before her?

Toriel crossed her arms over her chest, her face falling into the usual scowl she seemed to always wear around Asgore. It used to hurt him a great deal when she looked at him like that; now he was glad to see it, as it was one of the very few things that were still personally his.

"Uh..." He forced a smile. "Howdy."

"Hello, Asgore," she replied calmly, eyes narrowed. She didn't move from the doorway to her house – her new house, rather, the one on the surface that she shared with Frisk. (Shortly after the barrier broke, when Toriel asked Frisk if they had anyone to go back to, Frisk suddenly became mute, refusing to answer. This was the only indication that Frisk was, perhaps, an orphan, and why it was so easy for them to now live with monsters.)

Speaking of which...

"Frisk isn't here," she added, noticing his eyes flicking behind her. "They're still in human school."

"Uh." Asgore stared at her, looking as if she'd just flashed him. (She knew that look well.) She felt that tugging annoyance when she looked at him, coupled with longing guilt, and she looked away, frowning.

Asgore coughed a little, about to use the nickname he had always used for her. She used to love it, but now all it did was make her angry.

* * *

Frisk had explained it to him, more than once, what it was that made Toriel so angry. "Guilt," they said between sips of tea, their eyes wise but sparking a little. "Over you. Over Asriel."

Asgore winced upon hearing his son's name, but Frisk wasn't being mean; they were simply stating facts.

"Over... the other children," Asgore added hesitantly, sadly. "The ones I killed."

Frisk was silent, their eyes no longer holding that twinkle. They were dark, sombre. Lowering the mug from their face, Frisk paused, then said, looking down at the floor, "Yeah."

"She'll never forgive me."

Asgore thought he was stating fact, but Frisk frowned at him, their face pulling into a frustrated grimace. "King Asgore--,"

" _Former_ King."

"You're still the King of Monsters!"

Asgore smiled, waving a hand to them in surrender. It was an old argument, but one that was already solved for him. Once the barrier had shattered, and once he had felt the true sun set on his shoulders, he felt the sun setting on his monarchy. Though Frisk constantly insisted that none of the monsters would ever accept his stepping-down, and that humans tended to respect others with flashy titles, still Asgore did not feel like a king any longer.

Asgore was tired of being king. When he felt real, true sunlight warm his entire body and snake into his old bones, he realised that, and had realised with it that he had felt that way for a very, very long time.

Ever since Asriel and Chara died, really.

Frisk was looking up at him. Beneath the table, their legs kicked rather jovially, one of the few times they ever really displayed their true youth. Really, it was very easy to forget that Frisk was barely out of their first decade. When he smiled at Frisk, he could see childish happiness there, but also strong, determined wisdom, something even adults could live their whole lives without ever gaining.

It was with this wisdom that Frisk said, very gently, "You'd be surprised, just how forgiving people can be."

Frisk sipped their tea again, which was good, because Asgore was struck speechless. When Frisk met his gaze and smiled, the gesture so bright and open, he was painfully reminded of another smile, another similarly innocent face, one that smiled almost as wide, and usually coupled it with a teasing, _"Howdy, Mr Dad Guy!"_

That, he found out later, was no coincidence.

"Is it true...?" Asgore began carefully, before pushing on. "Is it true that you once asked Tori-Toriel if you could call her Mother...?"

Before he even finished, Frisk was blushing, trying to hide it from him by raising the mug in front of their face and looking down.

Asgore chuckled. "And I bet she was happy with it, yes?" When Frisk nodded shyly, Asgore grinned. "That sounds like Tori."

"I call her Mami Tori, now," Frisk admitted, still trying to hide behind their cup.

Asgore couldn't help it; he laughed. Frisk smiled, then giggled, unable to suppress it. Asgore had been told once he had that kind of laugh.

Then the smile turned mischievous. "Someday, if you want, I can call you Papi Gorey."

The grin was teasing, their eyes sparkling with mirth, and Asgore smiled back, but he found himself unable to say anything to this, simply because of one thing: he actually would have like it, very, very much.

* * *

 _Was_ it guilt, like Frisk said? He wondered this now. Frisk was incredibly intuitive when it came to the feelings of monsters, and their judgement very rarely fell through, so Asgore was inclined to trust their assessment of Toriel as well.

Toriel, however, was still silent, still looking away and keeping her arms crossed. She didn't know why Asgore was here, especially now that he knew for a fact that Frisk wasn't here.

* * *

Again, it was Frisk who had brought it up, once, after Asgore had left during one of his "surprise-check-on-Frisk" visits. Toriel, to make a point, had hidden in the kitchen the entire time, refusing to come out and making loud, excessive cooking noises the whole time, until he gave up and left.

Between bites of cinnamon pie, Frisk said, very casually (maybe _too_ casually), "He still loves you, Mami Tori. You know that, don't you?"

Toriel jumped so high she dropped her fork, her heart racing. She stared at her adopted child in shock, before turning away and sniffing a little. "Frisk, you're still very young. Don't worry about us adults."

Frisk dropped their fork loudly onto the table, their eyes narrowed. Toriel looked over, about to lecture on the proper use of fork-dropping (completely missing that she had just done the same only moments ago), when she caught the expression on Frisk's face: insulted to the core.

"Worrying about you adults is my _job."_ It was said calmly, but Frisk's eyes were practically opaque with hurt.

Toriel reached forward and covered one of Frisk's hands with her own. Frisk looked down, biting their lip a little. "You're right, my child," Toriel admitted gently. "And you're wonderful at it. Forgive me."

Frisk smiled, blushing shyly and nodding, giving Toriel's hand a squeeze before adding, "You and King Asgore need to talk about this. It's getting old."

Toriel sighed. "You need to stop hanging around Undyne."

"Still my job, Mami" Frisk replied cheerfully, their face now slightly dusted with cinnamon.

"Yes, well..." Toriel leaned in and gently brushed the spice off of those cheeks with a towel, causing Frisk to squirm a little in protest. "You keep bringing up Asgore. Why? What do you hope for?"

"Easy." The answer was quick, though muffled by more pie. "For the two of you to get back together again."

Toriel again was shocked. Frisk noticed, looked a little worried, then stuffed their face full of pie once more, preventing themself from having to elaborate.

It was easy for Frisk – and indeed, everyone else – to say such a thing so casually.

Even sans had once said, out of nowhere, "knock knock?"

Always delighted by these, Toriel replied, "Who's there?"

"old lady."

"Old lady, who?"

"old lady needs to come to terms with her feelings for a certain hairy king."

To which she almost lit him on fire, and would have, if she had known it would have made a difference.

But it wasn't that easy. It hadn't been for many, many years.

* * *

Every time Toriel saw Asgore, she felt two major emotions: white-hot rage and crippling sadness. She was furious with his actions, enraged when he admitted, after all of this time, that she had been right all along.

Whenever she looked into his eyes, she saw so much of her own agony and loneliness reflected there, and it only made her feel worse.

She hated him for killing children. She loved him for how much she loved his people.

She wished he would disappear. She yearned for his company.

She wanted to slap him. She wanted to embrace him.

But now, all she could do was simply glare, her emotions too complex, too contradictory, to even hope to explain. Some teacher she was.

Asgore was still standing there in the doorway, now shifting from foot to foot. He had started wearing casual clothes ever since the barrier broke, and found that he really loved brightly-coloured shirts and very floppy pants. Toriel had also given up her robes, for clothes that seemed invented just for her: long, button-up sweaters over ankle-length skirts, over what Frisk called "turtle-necks", and usually, now, her glasses.

She had been spending much of her time outlining various lesson plans for Frisk, things about the Underground that Frisk seemed to love more than pie, and always asked for more and more.

In fact, Asgore had shown up just when she was in the middle of an outline for the next day's plans – yet another reason to be annoyed with him.

Finally, when he showed absolutely no inclination of taking her up on her hints and just _leave_ , she sighed and dropped her arms to her sides, her sigh so deep and defeated that it surprised Asgore; indeed, he looked at her rather hopefully. She rolled her eyes and opened the door fully, scowling, then waving him in, already striding away.

Asgore had to stumble a bit to follow, not willing to let this opportunity slip past. He shut the door behind him – and paused.

How had he not noticed before? Was it because he had had tunnel vision the last time he was here, just desperate to talk to Frisk, instead of taking his surroundings in? Or had his brain merely decided to protect him from what he saw?

Because now he saw what he had missed: the fact that this home, the home Toriel shared with Frisk, was as identical to the old Palace as any other place really could be. And in turn, it was also identical to the Palace that Asgore still haunted Underground. It was almost surreal.

"Would you like some tea?"

Asgore looked over at her in surprise, broken free from his reverie with her words. She stood in the doorway to the kitchen, waiting for his answer, though her expression was still drawn. However, despite this, she didn't seem as... tense as before. Or maybe it was wishful thinking on his part. (It wasn't.)

He nodded. "Whatever you have will be lovely, Tori."

Toriel pursed her lips at that, but didn't say a word against it. She couldn't really think of what she could say to it; if anyone else, like sans or Frisk, used that name, she didn't feel strange, like she did now, when Asgore used it. It was completely different when it came from him, and it robbed her of any words she could even imagine saying. So, in response, she nodded, then turned back and vanished into the kitchen.

Asgore slowly made his way into the sitting room, every hair on his arms and neck standing up as he did so, unable to shake the unreality of his surroundings.

Really, how could he have been so blind?

Here and there, evidence of Frisk littered the home: a few errant socks, notepads half full, mountains of books, a few folded stripe shirts. Seeing each one brought a new kind of ache to his heart, and he realised that what he was feeling was jealousy, of Toriel and Frisk. Toriel was lucky; in the end, she had still managed to get her one and only wish: to protect a human child and treat them as one of her own. He yearned for that special kind of connection, yearned to see Frisk more than just a handful of times a month. He thought of how empty his home always was in comparison to this wonderful one, and he felt so lonely, his throat hurt.

In the kitchen, Toriel was hunched over the teapot, trying to keep herself calm. Why did she invite him in? Why was she making tea? What could possibly come of it, save more pain and confusion?

She boiled the water easily, then seemed to go on what Alphys called "autopilot": she measured the tea automatically, pouring it out and then adding sugar to each one like she always used to, every morning, before everything went to hell. She hadn't even realised she had done it until she was placing the mugs on the tray. She not only remembered how he had taken his tea, but also how he liked to wait for it to cool a bit before he drank it. She hadn't even realised she still knew how to do this until the deed was done.

_If he even still takes it this way._

Was she merely making a bigger fool out of herself?

_What am I even doing?_

* * *

When the human child who had become their second child suddenly became very, very sick, neither they nor Asriel would explain what happened.

They had been raising Chara in their family for over three years by then, and thus both children were growing close to that temperamental young-adulthood. As such, neither of them were as open as they used to be.

With Chara as sick as they were, and with only Asriel to explain what had happened, it seemed to be hopeless.

Eventually, when Chara became too sick to speak, only Asriel could explain.

But he wouldn't.

Instead, he sat at Chara's bedside as often as possible, one hand always clutching one of Chara's now-cold ones, the other holding the locket he wore around his neck. Though resting, as close to sleep as the sick can get, Chara sometimes squeezed his hand, their other hand also holding an identical locket, only the chain was wrapped around their wrist like a bracelet.

Every time Toriel tried to comfort her son, his face would crumple and he would start to cry, but he never spoke.

Asgore also stayed close to Chara. He looked so young at those times, either pacing just outside of the room or seating himself at the foot of the bed, sometimes trying to urge Chara awake, trying to encourage them to come back, because they were needed, they were the future.

Once, the last time Chara had been awake in front of the entire family, they spoke. They looked like every single word hurt and, as a result, it angered Chara, but there was also something new there: the dark, blank stare of someone who knows their time is almost up.

With a voice so low it was hard to hear, Chara asked, "What's going to happen to me?"

Toriel swooped in, leaning down and embracing her human child gently. Chara's eyes closed, though their face was still ashen. "You're going to be just fine, my child," Toriel whispered.

"Don't lie," sighed Chara.

Asriel bit his bottom lip, his eyes filling, when they met Chara's. He tried to speak, but instead grabbed Chara's locket-holding hand between his, trying to rub as much warmth in the cold fingers as he could.

"See? Asriel is honest."

"Chara," Asgore broke in softly, as Toriel shut her eyes and looked away, hiding her face from not only Chara, but the rest of her family as well, holding Chara as close to her as possible.

When those dim eyes met his, Asgore swallowed, hard. "We want to save you. Please, tell us what happened."

Chara looked away, to Asriel. Asriel shut his eyes, leaning his head to hide his own tears, resting his cheek on Chara's hand. He nodded slowly, but Chara shook their head.

"Please," Toriel whispered. Her voice was small, choked up, but she still hid her face from everyone, especially Chara. "Please. _Please_ , my child, please..."

It was all she would say – all she _could_ say – over and over, as she slowly rocked Chara, as if hoping the gentle movement would heal the sick child somehow.

_If only._

"It's my fault," Asriel suddenly blurted out. "All of it. It's all my fault."

"Asriel, you idiot, it was _my idea_ and you _know_ it!" Chara sighed, then winced, when they said this.

"No, you're wrong, if I hadn't of said anything—,"

"Asriel, shut up!"

"But if I just--,"

" _Idiot, shut up!"_

"Enough," Asgore broke in sharply. Though his tone was enough to silence his children, inside, his heart was breaking, the pain physical. It was the final spear to his chest, listening to them bicker this way.

Toriel was openly weeping now, her shoulders shaking. Chara noticed, their face softening, a small yearning seen there. "Mom..."

"You'll be just fine, sweetie," Toriel sobbed. "I'll protect you. You'll be just fine."

"Stop lying, Mom."

Toriel, though, wasn't lying, not really. Rather, she was begging - though whom, she didn't know. All she knew was that all she could do was beg, and hope that whatever listened would grant her this small mercy, and let her human child live.

But it fell on deaf ears.

Chara died all the same.

It was Asriel's screams that brought them awake from their fitful doze, allowing themselves a small break when it looked like Chara was finally sleeping comfortably. At those screams, they realised their terrible mistake, a mistake that they would both share, and would both haunt them, for the rest of their days.

That one moment of selfish repose had stripped them of their final moments with their dying child.

They found Asriel holding Chara to him, so closely it seemed like they were glued together. He was screaming, unable to stop, screaming for Chara, his beloved sibling, over and over again.

Toriel dropped to the ground like a stone the moment she understood. She felt numb, hot and cold, cold and hot, but her son's agony was too real to be a dream. She fell forward, hands over her face, and she cried, the shattered tears of a heartbroken mother.

Asgore stood stricken in the doorway for a moment, his own eyes spilling over, before slowly making his way to his screaming son, as if not quite understanding what he was seeing – or perhaps hoping he was wrong.

But he wasn't.

When he reached Asriel's side, he fell to his knees beside him, his eyes on that pale, blank face, the face that was once so animated and happy and wonderful, now erased forever. He reached out, his hand shaking, and touched his human child's cold cheek. Then, his hand dropped, and he lowered his chin to his chest.

And then... and then... the true nightmare began.

* * *

Spoons clattered to the ground, slipping from Toriel's grip, as the memory of that raw pain washed over her. Sighing, trying to regain her composure, she shut her eyes, stood up straighter, and adjusted the tea on the tray, before adding to the tray a plate of cookies. With a deep breath, she squared her shoulders, picked up the tray, and went to meet Asgore.

He was still standing, looking like a giant pink cloud in his shirt of choice. It made him look rather round, but oddly, Toriel found herself thinking that instead of looking tacky (like she used to), she actually found it kind of sweet; Asgore was that kind of monster, really. He was big, strong, and without question a peerless warrior, but he could also be, more often than not, incredibly goofy, awkward, and almost silly. If anything, these clothes he wore now seemed to call attention to those traits, rather than the traits he used to emphasise when Underground.

Asgore was staring at the pictures on the bookcase, three pictures that Toriel kept out at all times, now. One was the family portrait taken years ago, the one of Toriel, Asgore, Asriel, and Chara. He had a copy of the same picture, but found it too painful to keep out every day to see.

Flanking the family portrait were two others that he had never seen before.

One was of Frisk, grinning wildly and looking ready to bounce, holding up a net and hovering over a bright purple butterfly. (Unfortunately, Frisk missed and ended up skinning their knees, but despite this, they were still thrilled with the results.)

The other, the one he was staring at, now, was one that he had never seen before.

In it, Asgore, himself, stood beside Frisk, looking enormous in comparison. Frisk was holding an armful of golden flowers, grinning so widely that their eyes vanished into crescents, holding them upwards and toward him. Asgore stood looking at Frisk, his hand out to take the bouquet, his face and expression of both tenderness... and something haunted. But he was smiling gently as he leaned down to take the offering.

He remembered that day. But he didn't remember anyone taking a picture. It suddenly came clear to him that Toriel, though changed in many ways, was still quite happy taking pictures, and this had been one of her many secret attempts.

Why?

Only Toriel knew.

She watched him, still holding the tray, as he gently picked that photo up in one giant hand. The look on his face made her want to cry all of a sudden, though of course she did not. He was looking at the picture with such tenderness and love that it was almost too painful to see.

It was how he used to look at Asriel and Chara. And in that look alone, Toriel realised that Asgore considered Frisk one of his own, too.

Even after everything he had done – and not done – to Frisk, still he loved them. And Toriel already knew that Frisk felt the same way; that was obvious in the picture Asgore held, alone.

 _But_...

* * *

"The-the flowers," Asriel was sobbing, still holding Chara to him. "I-I need to go there, to the surface... To see the flowers in their village..."

Both parents were jolted into looking up at their son, both feeling the same dread. "What did you just say?" Toriel asked, her voice broken.

"Ch-Chara wanted to see the flowers one last time... s-so I have to... I have to..." Asriel shut his eyes tightly, sobbing aloud, before concluding: "I have to cross over. With Chara's soul."

_"Asriel--!"_

_"Asriel, no!"_ Asgore rushed to his feet, reaching towards his son, as Toriel tried to do the same, tripping over her robes—

\--but Asriel had already reached out with his power, the power every monster holds innate within them but usually would never be used: The power to absorb a human soul.

And with that, not even a parent, a royal parent, would stop him, though they tried, with everything they had. But Asriel had become too powerful, now. He slipped through the barrier, holding his dead sibling close, refusing to let go.

Even when dying.

* * *

Toriel moved from the doorway to the table and set the tray down loudly, causing Asgore to fumble with the photo before he replaced it. Embarrassed, he turned away quickly, though his eyes were wet and bright. He turned to Toriel and saw something he hadn't seen in years from her: Genuine, loving concern.

"Come sit with me," said Toriel gently, waving to the table as she did so. He obliged, wishing he could find a way to comment on the entire house, not just the photos. He wanted to ask her why she had made her home into a replica of the home they once shared, and if it meant what he had hoped.

Instead, he stayed quiet, as Toriel handed him his mug of tea and a small plate of cookies. Asgore stared at them both in surprise, as he had just been served his favourite tea and his favourite cookies.

"Don't read too much into it," she advised calmly, sipping her own tea between sentences. "Frisk loves both almost as much as you do, Dreemurr."

Which was true, but not entirely.

While Undyne had been the one to introduce Frisk to golden flower tea, Toriel had been the one to give them the cookies, simply in hopes of getting rid of them. She sometimes found herself bringing them home from the supermarket, picking them up, again, unconsciously, only to realise her mistake once she got home. She usually ended up hiding the cookies deep in the pantry, where more often than not they got stale and thus inedible.

When Frisk expressed their delight when eating the cookies, Toriel decided then to keep them in stock, to let herself automatically get them, only this time for someone new. Now, they never went stale, thanks to Frisk.

"Well," Asgore replied happily. "I'll take them all the same. I haven't had these in years!"

"You can buy them at any market, Asgore."

"But I don't!"

Toriel frowned, taking a cookie for herself, feeling confused. After what seemed like an eternal pause between them, filled with crunching and sipping, Toriel lost her temper and just said it, tired of the heavy air between them.

"Why are you here, Asgore? And don't pretend it's for Frisk. Why did you come here, now, at this time, today?"

Asgore winced, putting his half-eaten cookie down, before forcing a small smile. "You always know how to get to the point, Tori."

"And _you_ always know how to dance around it, Dreemurr."

He didn't deny it, but also didn't continue. He wasn't even sure how to continue.

How did one apologise for so much at once?

What he didn't know was that Toriel was wondering the exact same thing.

* * *

Once, shortly after the barrier had shattered, Frisk had gone back to the Ruins with Toriel, holding her hand the entire time. At this point, the still-queen knew she was being humoured – as by now, Frisk was practically a master at puzzles – but when it came from Frisk, it didn't matter. If humoured by anyone else, yes, she would have minded, but Frisk? Never.

About halfway to Toriel's house, Frisk stopped, forcing Toriel to stumble backwards. Frisk was looking upwards, their face amazed, and Toriel followed their glance.

"I fell from up there," said Frisk.

Toriel smiled, kneeling beside them and placing an arm around the slender shoulders. "You did."

"But I survived."

"You did," Toriel repeated, giving Frisk's shoulders a gentle squeeze. It did look like a long way to fall – especially for one so small.

"And then Flowey--,"

Toriel's expression darkened, her smile vanishing at once, silencing Frisk mid-sentence. Blushing, Frisk apologised, but Toriel shook her head.

It wasn't Frisk's fault, how Toriel felt about that strange non-monster, Flowey. No one had seen Flowey since the barrier had shattered, and Frisk wasn't as forthcoming with the details as she'd hoped, though she didn't understand why.

Flowey had been something of a pest for many, many years. It seemed bizarre that, now that the barrier was gone, Flowey was nowhere to be seen, even when, eventually, years later, more humans would come Underground.

"Mami Tori?"

Toriel smiled, her heart blossoming within her breast upon hearing the name. It was a name that was a precious balm to any wound. "Yes, my child?"

"If you ever see Flowey again, please... spare him."

Toriel's smile faded. She looked at Frisk closely. "Why, Frisk?"

They were silent for a long time, so long that Toriel looked closer at them. They were looking down, playing with the hem of their shirt.

"Because... because..." Frisk frowned, struggling to find the right words. "Because even the soulless were once just the same as us. Flowey is no different." They looked up at Toriel, a desperation there that Toriel had only seen a few times, and that was when they were struggling to survive, to solve the unsolvable.

Toriel eyed Frisk closely. Something in the back of her mind, memories long gone from the time the barrier shattered, in order to spare room for better, happier ones, seemed to make her nose itch a bit with confusion.

What did Frisk know that she did not?

However, Toriel knew better than to disagree, or argue. She disliked and mistrusted Flowey, but did that warrant a death sentence? Of course not.

"Alright, Frisk, my dear," Toriel smiled in agreement, hugging them close and bringing giggles forth to erase the frowns, exactly her goal. "You have my word: I will always spare Flowey."

* * *

Why did she think of _that_ now?

Asgore still hadn't answered her. In fact, he seemed to want to say anything but what she asked of him. To prove her right, he said, "You always made my tea the best. I'm surprised you remembered."

Toriel stared at him, actually having to stop herself from setting him on fire. That kind of loose grip on her temper had been happening more and more lately. She decided it was because she was socialising more, and had nothing to do with Asgore's verbal gymnastics.

Of course not.

"Was I wrong?" she asked now, her voice as cold as Snowdin.

Asgore sighed, seeming to sigh with his entire body. "Of course not, Tori. You're not wrong on a great deal of things. I'm just too stubborn to admit it." He looked up from his plate, his eyes on hers, and she was unable to look away. "Though lately, all I can see are my mistakes."

Toriel sipped her tea to keep herself from saying something caustic and likely regrettable. When she had been younger, her temper ruled far more than it did now. She was often like the fire she wielded, hot and sudden and full of chaos if let loose, but also manageable in the right hands, and capable of cooling to warm, soothing embers.

In fact, the first time she had met Asgore, it was in magic class.

* * *

"You? Fire?" was the first thing she ever said to him.

Even back then, he had been large and strong, but known for just the opposite: sweet and a bit of a pushover, and with a touch of naiveté.

He had looked up at her, staring at her in surprise, and something else, something she didn't recognise until much, much later: attraction, and tenderness.

"Howdy," he replied. "And yes!"

"But... but you're such... a wimp!"

Asgore's smile flickered a bit at that, but he nodded. "You'd be surprised."

Without hesitation, Toriel sat down beside him, holding out her hand. "Prove it," she demanded. "I'm Toriel."

He took her hand with visible delight, shaking it enthusiastically. "Sure. I'm Asgore."

And he _did_ prove it, more than once, and often making Toriel speechless, intriguing her even more.

But that had been during easier times, calmer times, times of peace and semi-balance. It had certainly been more peaceful then than it was later on.

* * *

"You're picturing me on fire."

Toriel choked on her tea in surprise, coughing and spluttering in the most unflattering, unqueenly manner.

Asgore grinned brightly, his first real grin in a long, long time.

"Gorey, you little--," Toriel had started toward him with a sudden grin, her chin dripping with tea but her face beaming.

Asgore stared, absolutely awestruck by this sudden lapse into the Tori he had known before.

A moment later, moments before she could grab him, Toriel froze, her face falling so quickly it threatened to break his heart. She sat back down and looked away, wiping her face with her napkin in silence.

Asgore looked down into his mug, shutting his eyes and swallowing hard. Toriel kept her face away, but she said, very softly, "I'm sorry. That was inappropriate."

"On the contrary," Asgore replied, his voice strained. "It was wonderful."

Toriel's shoulders sagged, and she turned back to him slowly. Her face, clean of tea, was drawn, on the verge of either tears or yelling. Maybe both.

"Gorey," she whispered, her voice a plea. "What are you doing here?"

Asgore shut his eyes again, the name so dear to him coming from her. "Honestly, Tori?"

"Honestly, please."

"I came to ask for a job."

Toriel turned to him, her expression shifting from that sadness to something else, something between confusion and... sarcasm?

"You're the _King_ of the _Underground_ , you dumb billy-goat," she said flatly, so flat it threatened to make him laugh despite himself. "You _have_ a job already."

"No, I have a _title,_ " Asgore said, not meaning to sound as terse as he did, but unable to call it back anyway. "A title that once held a responsibility I proved, more than once, unworthy to have."

Toriel met his gaze, her face suddenly gentle. "Not completely true," she admonished, honestly. "Not always. Everyone adores you, Asgore. The humans like you, too, in their own way. For whatever horrible things you may have done..." She sighed deeply. "You do seem to want to make amends Even _I_ can see that, and you know how biased I can be." She tried to ease the words with a soft smile, but it was still sad.

Asgore stared at her, his heart so loud within his ears that he was sure Toriel could hear it. (She could, but she would never tell him so.) Without even thinking ahead, he suddenly said, "Tori... I still... I still..."

"No, let me finish, Dreemurr," she snapped, holding up a hand and silencing him. "I'm still mad at you. I can't help that."

"I know," he agreed sadly.

"I'm not done yet, Dreemurr."

Asgore shut up.

"But... if you're serious about wanting a job..."

He looked up in hope, his neck cracking from the force of it. Toriel saw the expression, a happy, grinning kind of beaming, and she had to look away, to her surprise, finding herself smiling in response. She smothered it as quickly as she could, but Asgore had seen it, anyway.

"Frisk told me something the other day, about their lessons with me." She felt shy all of a sudden. "It's absurd, but... I really want to do it."

Asgore rubbed his beard slowly in thought. "Ah, an Aboveground school for monsters?"

Toriel paused, then casually leaned forward and cupped her hand around his mug of tea. She smiled, and with that smile, had Asgore's tea boiling. He remembered that quite well, but instead of anger, he grinned.

 _This_ was the Tori he knew; the gentle, loving mother, but also the strong, temperamental queen.

"Yes, a school," she agreed finally, removing her hand calmly. "Frisk even managed to ask around, and they found an old schoolhouse, long abandoned for years, that the humans have agreed to give to us. They even offered to help rebuild it if we needed it."

"That's... quite generous, Tori," Asgore said in surprise.

Tori smiled, the edges slightly feral. "It's the very _least_ they could do, considering; don't you think?"

Asgore didn't deny that; it was true. "But is it enough?"

Toriel suddenly lit up. She leaned forward, hands on the table, her eyes shining so bright her whole face shone. "Frisk brought me to it the other day and... Gorey, it's _perfect_. It needs work – love, care, and patience - but, with that... with that... eventually, with the success of monster students..."

Asgore smiled back, her glee contagious. "Human students?"

Her eyes sparkled with this, her hands clasped before her, and in that moment, that single moment, Asgore realised with a wrench of his heart that he was hers, for life, no matter what, and always had been.

"Yes," she agreed breathlessly. "More than _anything_ , yes."

"Well, golly, Tori. Sounds like everything is just wonderful."

"But I'm not done," she replied. "You said you wanted a job?"

He nodded.

"How badly, Asgore? Enough to give up being King, like I have?" Her eyes stared into his, sharp and clear. "Enough to be humble, to be part of a team, instead of alone as a ruler, making your own rules?"

"Is that how you really see me, Tori?"

Toriel paused. Asgore looked hurt, now, when before he was one word away from floating into the clouds. He had always been that way, and she found herself remembering their old ways, their speech patterns and verbal dances. One such dance was this one, in which Asgore misunderstood something based on one single word in an entire sentence. She fell back into the dance so easily it almost hurt.

"Yes," she admitted, and his face instantly fell. "Or, I used to."

"What changed?"

Toriel paused, considering. What _had_ changed? "You did, Gorey."

He blinked, his eyes going wide. He stared at her. "I did?"

"Yes." She rested her cheek on her hand, looking to the side and thinking deeply for a moment before going on. "You've changed, yes, but not in the ways you think."

"You always knew what I thought."

She looked at him sharply, expecting sarcasm, but she should have known better. It could have been a sarcastic comment if it had come from anyone else, but from him, it was anything but. He was looking down at his still-boiling tea with an affectionate smile, looking almost silly in the way he smiled. "Sometimes better than I know my own thoughts, really."

"Yes, yes, dear," she answered automatically, the gentle pet-name coming out so easily she didn't even pause. "But the day I stopped you from fighting Frisk... I could see it. You didn't want to kill them, even though you barely knew them at that point. Though you started to fight, when you saw me, you could have easily struck me down and attacked Frisk."

Asgore was horrified by this. " _Tori!_ You really though I would _hurt_ you, would _kill_ you?!"

"Yes," she answered, her eyes sombre. "You've killed six human children, Asgore."

Shame lanced hot into his gut and throat, a pain that he regretted more and more every day. He lowered his head once more, again hiding his tears.

And to think, Tori thought he wouldn't hesitate to kill her, too.

Suddenly, he felt the touch he had missed for so long upon his forehead. He froze, holding his breath, afraid to move lest he spook her away.

Toriel was unspookable at this point. She hadn't hesitated to touch him, though now she wondered why not. However, instead of dwelling on it and pulling away with an apology, her fingers seemed to have minds of their own, surrendering to years-old patterns of touch and caress.

Asgore's head seemed to lower more and more, until his shoulders shook and his head found rest upon the tabletop.

"Oh, Gorey," she whispered, feeling tenderness and longing surge through her like a tidal wave. "Don't weep, love, please, you don't need to. That was then. I know much better, now."

Asgore looked up, raising his head slowly, so that Toriel's hand stayed where it was. It didn't; instead, she slid it down to his cheek, cupping the furry skin and scratchy whiskers with a small, sad smile, her eyes full of tears.

She'd called him "love". With no hesitation.

"Tori..." he whispered, reaching up to cradle her spare hand between his.

Her tears spilled over and her smile vanished, their eyes meeting. Suddenly, it was as if the gulf of years that had always kept them separated closed.

Toriel rose to her feet, bringing him to his, and they walked back to the hallway, hand-in-hand.

She stopped him in front of the room that was empty here as well as within Asgore's, and her old home, as well. They stood before the door that, while now a spare bedroom, had once belonged to their son.

In another house, in another time, always empty, those rooms in those houses, and in the places within their hearts.

They turned to each other, then, still holding hands. By now, both were crying, but neither said a word. Instead, as if pulled by strings, they closed the distance between them and embraced, clinging together as if for dear life, both overcome with the years-old grief that felt fresh and new and unbearable, the realisation that they would forever be haunted by dead children – human and monster alike.

There was nothing beyond this embrace, no kisses, to intimate touches, nothing of the sort. While both felt a kind of desperate yearning for the other, both were old enough and wise enough to not complicate things that much this soon.

However, at one point, Asgore choked out, "Tori, I still... I'm still—,"

"Don't," she pleaded, but he went on, his voice muffled by her shoulder. "Stop, Gorey. _Don't."_

"I never stopped loving you, Tori. I never will."

Toriel sobbed, once, then gritted her teeth and tried to calm down. She didn't want to know this, didn't want to admit that it was the very same for her, and always had been, even when she was so sure that she hated him more than she could ever love him.

But that would be lying. And Toriel never lied, not if she could help it.

"You stupid, stupid, _stupid billy-goat,"_ she answered, her voice a garbled mess of tears and anger, but he laughed tearfully all the same, hearing what wasn't said beneath those words.

A silence followed, one broken only by a few sniffles or gentle soothing words. For a long time, the former couple held each other, finally allowing years if pain and anger left unspoken bubble out and froth over. And with each spill came the clean up, which was exactly the right balm they both needed.

* * *

Once, when the Underground was still sealed and Frisk was still called Chara, Asgore had decided to call Alphys to get her opinion on them.

He and Alphys had become friends over the time they had spent with Determination research - perhaps even before then, thanks to how they met. Therefore, Asgore often sought her advice for myriad reasons.

This one, however, surprised her.

"The-the human, Asgore?" Alphys's voice was tense, and he could hear her typing something hurriedly into something else. Most of that kind of stuff he left to her; why else would he have a royal scientist, after all?

"Yes, Doctor," he agreed easily. "Obviously, the human is rather important to me, especially now, as I'm sure you're aware."

"Er."

The hesitation made Asgore uncomfortable all of a sudden. "Something wrong?"

"Er, n-no! No, sir, not at all!" Alphys said hastily. "I'm so sorry, let me just..." More typing sounds. "Okay, I've got them on camera. They're just leaving the Ruins - oh." She paused.

"It's okay, Doctor," he said gently. Alphys was like that, always cautious of other people's sensitivities. In fact, she was one of the most sensitive people he knew, though she would go out of her way to deny it.

"Er. Well. Uh. The Queen is safe, but... I'm sorry, Asgore. But she... sealed the Ruins. Forever."

Asgore was speechless at this.

"The human looks okay, and reports show that the Queen is also unhurt, so it's not... what we feared. This time. In fact, I don't think this human even attacked the practice dummy. They should be fine walking through the Underground."

That was when Asgore knew for sure that, once again, he was going to have to murder an innocent child.

Alphys was quiet for a moment. Then she asked, gently, "Sir, what will you tell Undyne to do?"

"Her job."

Alphys inhaled sharply, then exhaled. "Yes, sir," she said quietly. She then made up some excuse to end the call, and did so, leaving Asgore feeling cold and dead inside.

What he didn't know was that Alphys immediately called Toriel (on her landline, as her cellphone was... away), the moment she had hung up.

Toriel was surprised to hear from her, as she and the doctor hadn't been close at that point, though still amicable.

"S-sorry to bother you, Queen T-Toriel, but..."

"Just Toriel is fine, Doctor."

"Er. Well. It's just... the human. Asgore... knows."

Toriel felt breathless, like she had just been punched in the stomach. "Dammit," she hissed.

"I'm s-so sorry, Your Majesty-,"

"Doctor, you did nothing wrong. Just..." And here Toriel hesitated, wondering if she were about to ask too much.

"Yes?"

"Watch over the human, yes, but... protect them."

A pause. "But, Lady Toriel, Asgore... he'll have Undyne after them soon, and I'll be powerless to stop her!"

"I know," Toriel shut her eyes tight. "But please, Doctor. Please, try. Do what you can, and try."

Another pause. Then, in a voice stronger than anyone, even Toriel, had ever heard before, Alphys said, "I will," before hanging up.

* * *

 And she had. So well that Frisk had survived the Underground, and was now their ambassador, their bridge, their light in the dark. Even the other monsters, upon encountering Frisk, seemed to sense something different within them, finding it too difficult to attack or even cross paths with them aggressively, instead opting to play games, instead. Frisk was simply too sweet, too likeable, too selfless, even, to even think of hurting. Or if one did, it never lasted.

(Undyne came to mind for the latter, as though she'd been quite determined to murder Frisk regardless of their "saccharine shtick" she later ended up being Frisk's ultimate champion.)

Thinking now, Asgore wondered if he truly had sought to kill Frisk, or had sought instead to be killed _by_ Frisk. He knew that Toriel would have let herself be killed if Frisk had tried to kill her. Had he done the same?

Once they had both calmed down enough, Toriel led Asgore back to the table, sitting back down. Her eyes were puffy with tears, but there was also a calm glow there, as if she had finally gotten free of something. Asgore certainly felt that way.

"Asgore," she said softly, her eyes once more on his. He nodded, so she went on. "We can't do this... not yet."

He nodded again, his shoulders drooping.

"But..."

And here, she again touched his cheek, her face so open and kind that his throat hurt again.

"Don't... don't give up on me yet, okay?"

Asgore smiled. "I've never given up on you. I never will."

She smiled back. "I appreciate that, dear, but you may change your mind once I tell you what kind of job I have for you."

"Anything is manageable with you close by, Tori." He said this easily, simply because it was true

"Oh, yes?" she smiled wider, and it was the smile he knew very well but hadn't seen in years: mischievous. "Do keep that in mind, then."


	2. Chapter 2

It was a beautiful day.

It usually was on the surface, even if it rained. ( _“Especially when it rains!”_ Undyne had declared once during a rather violent downpour, before she ran screaming into it, twirling in circles so many times it was a marvel she didn’t get sick.)

On this day, though, the beautiful sun, once a distant pinpoint in the sky above, was out in its full glory, only a few puffy white clouds floating here and there.

Asgore looked up at the sky and smiled, using the pause to adjust his now-grassy clothes. Once that was done, he went back to work, pushing the manual grass cutter up and down the lush, bright green spikes of grass that served as the front playground of the new school.

Toriel’s school.

The job she had given him had delighted him so much he teared up, both amusing and embarrassing Toriel as a result; that had clearly not been the reaction she had been expecting.

In fact, for him, it was the job of his dreams.

He was the school’s Groundskeeper, now, an obvious step down from King, but to him, it was a promotion, especially when it meant he could be surrounded by children.       

* * *

 For the first year, the school operated only for monsters. Many of the children he knew, he recognised, from his many travels in the Underground. They recognised him, too, and though some of them were wary of him at first, most seemed to find his demotion rather funny.

As a result, he was surrounded by children, and he adored it, even when they played silly tricks on him (though that didn’t happen very often; the monster children loved and respected him too much to do more than just tiny, harmless tricks). He missed being a father, sometimes so much it made him feel empty and hollow. At school, he didn’t feel that way any longer. Instead, even when covered in dirt and grass, he felt more like a king than he had when he actually was one.

In that year, Asgore and Toriel became friends. Certainly not as close as that one day he followed her home, but now, instead of glares, Toriel greeted him with a nod, then a smile, then a touch on his shoulder. Soon, they shared lunches together (mostly out of necessity at first, since he found himself too excited to make any lunch in the morning, and she took pity on him and began sharing hers, soon making enough for both of them as a habit), walked between classes together, even chatted after classes. Each time he wished he could hope for more. But he didn’t push it.

It was the following year that had him finally meeting his dreams head-on. Because it was then that the human government allowed Toriel’s school to accept a few human children.

This made not just the humans nervous, but the monsters, as well. For decades of decades, humans had been taught to fear and hate monsters. Now, they were supposed to be _taught by those monsters_. It was a definitely culture-shock.

However, when it was discovered that Frisk would be the first student (something all of them should have expected, really), the entire monster community relaxed. They knew that with Frisk there, they were protected, although in turn, of course they would protect Frisk. Soon, with Frisk’s success, more human children began to come to the school, and even human teachers expressed interest in teaching there, as well.

But there was a slight problem to that.

The very first thing everyone saw when walking into the school was Asgore. They knew who he was, who he had been, and what he had done. What they didn’t know was why he was now there, cheerfully cutting grass or watering flowers. It was only when Frisk made a point of running to him every morning and attacking him with a bear-hug (one he pretended grounded him), that eventually, the tension seemed to ease, just a bit.

The humans were still scared of him, though, no matter how many times Frisk hugged him and spent time with him. It wasn’t their fault, really: they, like monsters, were raised from birth to fear monsters, and if one coupled that with the raw fear of the unknown, well, of course they would be afraid.

And while it took the longest for them to warm up to him than it did the other monster teachers, once they did, well... Needless to say, they treated him like a big, climbable, fluffy teddy bear.

And he _loved it all._

When the second year also brought older human students, this also meant less climbing and more teasing. They loved to make fun of their monster Groundskeeper, sometimes exchanging the real garden tools with plastic ones – only to regret it when Asgore cheerfully used those plastic ones, anyway, so that didn’t last. Another favourite thing they loved to employ was their unfortunate nickname for him: Ass-Gore.

When Toriel first heard the name, she was _furious_. None of the monster students used the name, both out of respect and love for their former king, and the younger human children whom had started to grow up with monsters never even thought of using it, either. In fact, they would often defend Asgore, resulting in schoolyard fights, frustrating Toriel further.

“Do you know what they’re calling you?” she demanded over lunch, the teachers’ lounge full with monster and human teachers alike.

At first, before they shared lunches, Toriel would sit with Alphys (science and cultural media), Shyren (musical theory and vocals), or Undyne (gym and martial arts).

Now, she always sat with him, at first to simply just feed him, but also because... she _wanted_ to.

Asgore’s mouth was full when she asked, a stray snail antenna sticking into his beard. “Whash?” he asked.

Toriel glared at him, and he swallowed the entire bite before asking again. As Toriel taught the two youngest grades Frisk called “kindergarten”, as well as a monster history class when she could, she was incredibly stern when it came to etiquette – especially around her fellow teachers; they were supposed to be role models, after all.

“They call you...” She glared down at her own lunch. She couldn’t even bring herself to say it.

“Ohh,” he smiled. “The Ass-Gore thing?”

Toriel looked so angry, it was as if the fire she controlled consumed her eyes. “Yes, _that_. It’s appalling, and it needs to stop. I’ve addressed it over and over, for them to have at least an _ounce_ of respect--,”

Asgore burst into laughter, unable to keep it in.

In response, Toriel grabbed his fork and heated it up, which only made his laughs louder.

“Tori!” he choked out when he could, which was good, because by then she was reaching for his cup. “I don’t mind. Let them do whatever they want, call me whatever they want.”

“You are the King of the Underground, Dreemurr,” she answered tersely, her hand still hovering over his mug. “You deserve respect.”

“Oh?” Asgore wondered, now using his hands to eat his pie. (Toriel twitched quite visibly when she saw this.) “And you, Tori, do _you_ demand respect for being Queen of the Underworld?”

“No, of course not,” she answered instantly.

“Right. You’re _Headmistress_ , not Queen.”

“Your point, please?”

He moved his mug out of her reach, just in case. “I’m _Groundskeeper_. A few silly names and pranks here and there come with the job, don’t you think?”

 Toriel’s scowl softened a bit. “That’s true, but... I don’t like it.”

“Well, I don’t like it when they call you ‘Tutorial’, but there’s nothing I can do about that.”

Her eyes widened. “They call me that?”

“Yep.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “The older humans find you overdo it with details when you substitute for other teachers. Less tell, more show, I think is what they said.”

Toriel blinked slowly, a slight blush on her cheeks. “Well... that _is_ true for me, I suppose. I just want to make sure they know everything. But yours?”

He shrugged, smiling. “It’s funny, actually. I’m surprised Undyne didn’t think of it sooner.”

“Oh, I did,” Undyne called over from her table. She was flanked by both Alphys and Papyrus (who would often help her with gym and martial arts). “I thought of it when you were training me. I just liked you way too much to use it.” And she grinned, all teeth, at this.

“See?” Asgore waved his hand at his former student and guard - and practically his adopted daughter - affectionately.

(Undyne had given up her Guard role full-time, true, but whenever she thought he was in even a whiff of trouble, she stepped right back into it, something Asgore would always cherish in his daughter - in ways that had nothing to do with being a Guard, too. But that's a different story.)

Toriel turned and absolutely seethed at Undyne at this, who went instantly pale and lowered herself in her seat, looking away, the smile instantly shrinking into a tiny line of guilt. (Alphys helpfully tried to cheer her up with some candy sticks, which perked her up, but she still looked sorry.)

“Don’t sweat it, Tori,” he concluded when she turned back to him. “If anything, I think it means they see me as less of a monster and more of one of their own, don’t you think?”

Toriel sighed. “Only _you_ would think something like that would be a nice thing.”

Asgore winked. “Isn’t that why you hired me, Tori, dear?”

When his pie was suddenly charcoal, he got his answer to that.

Another time, near the end of the second year, was the one that seemed to finally thaw the humans completely to him, all thanks to Frisk.

* * *

 Asgore enjoyed a nice nap in the summer sun once all of his chores were done for the moment, and he always chose the hedge that he had cut to look like Toriel – as Queen – to sleep beneath. As a former warrior, he would always have that sixth sense that came with it: the knowledge that someone was close by, and to wake up at once.

Therefore, when he sensed Frisk and a group of children coming toward him, he feigned a deep, unshakable sleep.

(Later, Frisk admitted that they had known Asgore had been awake the entire time, which, when she heard the whole story, made even Toriel laugh so hard she almost choked on her tea.)

“Okay,” Frisk said, whispering. They were surrounded by friends, mostly monsters, but also a few humans, which was the point. Frisk was speaking to the humans rather than the monsters. “Got everything?” A couple of acknowledgments. “Good. So, the thing about Asgore is--,”

“Ass-Gore,” one of the human children added with a snort. (The named monster had to swallow a laugh as well, which almost ruined everything.)

“Shut up, please,” Frisk said cheerfully. “See how big his horns are? Well, I bet they’d look super-nice decorated for a Christmas in June, don’t you think?”

Suddenly, Asgore knew what Gryftrot must feel like. Keeping very still, Asgore felt his horns get heavier and heavier, as small, nervous hands wrapped them in tinsel, garland, and ribbons. Frisk even added a few ornaments.

When they were done, this resulted in much giggling and excited ideas for more decorations upon their Groundskeeper. Frisk encouraged them, and by the time they were finished, even Asgore's hands were wrapped with ribbons and garland.

Then, there were about a dozen flashes of phone cameras, which was when Asgore decided to pretend to turn over in his sleep. The result was surprised shrieking from the human children, who ran away, delighted. Soon, once they had posted the picture to their various social medias, the monster children followed suit, their giggles drifting away like a song on a breeze.

Only Frisk remained. “Okay, Papi. You can wake up, now.”

Asgore sat up at once and opened his eyes, his head extraordinarily heavy. “Howdy, Frisk!” he replied cheerfully. “That was fun, wasn’t it?”

Frisk grinned. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“On the contrary,” he replied, getting to his feet and stretching, getting adjusted to the new weight. “I’m quite happy to bring early festivities to the school.”

For the rest of the day, he walked around like that, pretending not to understand why everyone else was pointing and giggling at him.

“Uh, Asgore?” Undyne said slowly, covering her mouth with her hand and trying to hide her grin – and failing. Her voice was choked with laughter. “Did you fall asleep at the mall or something?”

Asgore smiled at her and shrugged. “Dunno what you’re talking about.”

Toriel was less subtle. “You look ridiculous, Dreemurr.”

“Ah, but very sparkly and pretty, don’t you think?”

To his delight, Toriel looked away, trying to hide an irritated blush. “Should you wear that until winter, or shall we set you up in Snowdin?”

He laughed, hard, at that, and she smiled, looking over at him shyly.

* * *

 After that, much changed, especially between Asgore and Toriel. Though Toriel prided herself in keen conversation and excellent teaching skills, after that incident, she found herself having trouble concentrating. She had seen similar behaviour in her older students, similar tensions, and Toriel wasn’t a fool; she knew what her problem was, and two years in close proximity to that problem likely didn’t help matters.

But what could be done about it?           

* * *

 Once, standing in the back and listening to a lecture that mostly went over her head but the students seemed to love, Toriel met up with Alphys for dinner.

This was something Toriel made a point of doing any time Alphys was on the surface; the doctor was incredibly wary in crowds, though she seemed to not realise that when in front of a crowd of students. Indeed, when it came to lessons, she absolutely thrived on teaching, and was good at it, too.

Toriel had heard many students say that, while Alphys was a little “weird”, her lessons were amazing. However, once the lesson ended and the classroom was empty, Alphys seemed to find herself confused as to what to do next, looking rather helpless in that state. Usually, Undyne would rescue her from such a state, but when Undyne proved busy with extracurricular activities, Toriel was the one to step in.

Alphys was always grateful. At first, she was far too nervous to accept Toriel’s invitations, but when Toriel kept insisting, she finally accepted.

What they didn’t expect was a rapport to form between them, an actual friendship, one that was bound to last.

Even when Alphys went on her many tangents that Toriel had no hopes of following, still she listened and encouraged the scientist to speak her mind. In turn, Toriel found herself learning more and more about humans through their culture, understanding them better.

This particular time, over coffee and bagels (a meal Frisk introduced them to and they both loved dearly), Alphys was ranting. Toriel sipped her drink as she listened, watching Alphys closely. She had many flaws, but her passion wasn’t one of them.

“And it’s nearly _impossible_ to even try to get them to understand this!” she was saying, gesticulating wildly. Toriel nodded, sipping her “mocha”, as Frisk had called it. “How hard is it for even _one_ person to get that, yes, we _were_ able to emulate a similar technology as theirs because of their garbage?!”

While most technology went over Toriel’s head (though she loved her upgraded phone and would never, ever go back), she found she had something to say about this. “Humans don’t like to think of their waste as useful, Doctor. They’d prefer to just toss it and forget about it.”

“That’s another thing!” Alphys agreed, her face angry. “They love to waste! Every time I try to explain how this isn’t a good way to live, and how _everything_ can be used again _somehow_ , all I get are glowers! And then I get too nervous to continue and...” She looked away and wrung her hands in front of her. “The lesson usually ends in angry silence.”

Toriel smiled kindly. “You never know, Doctor. Some of them may have gotten the message.”

“Hmph,” Alphys answered, grumpily resting her chin her hand, still looking away, her other hand picking at her bagel rather aggressively.

“Shall I distract you from this for now?” Toriel offered.  
  
Alphys looked over, then sat up and nodded, smiling faintly. “Yes, please,” she agreed. “I’d actually love that.”

Toriel eyed her closely, checking for sarcasm, which was always wasted on Alphys. She nodded. “What do you think of Asgore, Doctor?”

The reaction she got was not expected. Alphys went bright red, looking caught in an unwanted spotlight. She broke into a visible sweat, averting her gaze so quickly it was as if she had done it in the span of a blink. Toriel, bemused, stared at her.

“Er, I don’t know _what_ you heard, especially if it was from Mettaton, or even Frisk, but I assure you, Your Majesty Headmistress, that whatever it was has _long_ passed. I mean, I would be lying if _sometimes_ he caught me off-guard and my own brain reacted to normal kindness as something far more than _normal_ kindness, like with mugs or shirts or the like, but I’m like that, I read too much into things that aren’t there, and work myself up, but ever since the barrier broke, and with the school a success, and being able to spend more time with _her_ , and getting to know her so much more, it’s so much better, but....but...”

She looked up in mid-sentence, saw Toriel’s expression, and lowered her head, concluded this with a rather weak, “Er.”

Toriel was staring at her, much like she did when one of her students purposefully answered a question wrong in order to make the class laugh. Alphys had noticed, and was now trying to hide her head into her lab coat.

Then Toriel finally understood, and she smiled. “Doctor, did you once have a crush on Asgore?”

At which point, Alphys started choking, and Toriel had to help her.

Once they had both settled back down (many of the humans were staring at them in surprise, but the other monster patrons merely shrugged it off as normal; they knew how skittish their Alphys could be), Toriel tried again. “So, then, I assume you have only _good_ things to say about Asgore?”

Alphys hesitated, cheeks still bright red and her glasses fogged up. Uneasily, she played with her own mug, a drink called a “pumpkin latte”, which Alphys was addicted to.

“It’s alright, dear,” Toriel said honestly, trying to ease Alphys’s nerves with a gentle touch to her shaky hand. “Go ahead. You won’t offend me.”

Alphys sighed deeply. “The... The secret’s out to everyone now, r-right?”

Toriel’s eyes darkened. Alphys meant the experiments that she had spent many, many months - and many, many emotions - on. The guilt that the scientist felt was visible on her face, even after she had come clean and been honest with everyone.

It was clear that, while everyone had (eventually) forgiven her, Alphys would never forgive herself.

“Yes, Doctor,” Toriel agreed gently. “The Determination research.”

Alphys looked up, her eyes wide and full of sorrow. “I... I... _had_ to follow his commands. But, they were hard to follow, though... I’d be lying if I didn’t add that it was very fascinating, regardless. As time went on... we grew close, or rather, we became friends, and I perhaps... read too much into it. I do that. Er.”

She looked back down. “B-but, when everything went wrong... it was so hard to look at him the same way... it wasn't his fault, what I'd done, but whenever I thought of him, all I could see were my mistakes... ones I made to please him..." She closed her eyes. "I still like him and enjoy being his friend, but...” She bit her lip, looking ready to cry.

Toriel nodded. She understood completely.

* * *

When Asriel returned from the surface, still holding Chara to him, he was already starting to vanish. He was covered in wounds, crying and crying, kneeling in the flowers of the courtyard.

Toriel had sensed him, tried to get there in time, and was already running to him, when she heard him speak.

 “I couldn’t do it, Chara,” he whispered into the dead child’s hair. “I couldn’t do it. I know you said, with your soul, it would be easy to, but... I’m a coward. You... you died for nothing... and now... so will... I...” He sobbed, once, a heartbreaking sound of unrelenting sorrow.

Toriel was running as fast as she could, but she was too late.

 “I’m so sorry, Chara,” her son sobbed, his body slowly dissolving, like motes in a sunbeam. His body shrank to its normal form as he began to die. “I’m not... brave like you. I’m not... strong like you. I love... loved... will _always_ love...”

He collapsed, becoming dust before he hit the ground.

Only Chara remained, their prone body now covered in their brother’s ashes, cradled within the flowers, looking both sleeping and dead all at once.

 “No... No! _NO!”_ Toriel screamed it, collapsing beside Chara, holding them close, feeling the dust of her son staining her robes. _“Asriel! Chara! Please!”_

 Asgore heard her screams, and ran to her side, not quite comprehending what he was seeing until he got close enough. He dropped to his knees beside his grieving wife and embraced both her and their dead human child close, Toriel falling into his embrace. By then, he, too, was weeping.

 Because monsters turn to dust, the tradition was to sprinkle the dust upon the place the monster had loved most in life, usually by family members and loved ones.

For Chara, it wasn’t that way, at all. Though they did eventually show signs of decay, when they did not turn to dust, Toriel forced herself to research human funerals, and came up with the idea to wrap Chara in bandages and place them in a coffin.

 Both parents did so together, washing their human child’s body with water as well as tears, dressing the human with careful, shaking hands. With heavy hearts, they placed Chara within the coffin they had built together, and placed it deep within the Palace’s basement.

* * *

 Once and a while, before Asgore began killing children, Toriel would drift to the basement and sit beside Chara’s coffin, at first just crying and wishing things were different. With time, though, she soon brought books with her, reading them aloud to the coffin, as if Chara’s silence merely meant an avidly listening mind.

 Asgore came down once during a particularly engrossing reading of Toriel’s favourite book about snails. He stood at the foot of the steps, listening to his wife explain the many wonderful things snails had going for them, even if eventually they became her favourite food.

 When her voice caught, she closed the book and lowered her head, placing one hand on the coffin – over the bright red heart – her shoulders shaking. Asgore was at her side at once, and she reached for him, one of the last times she would.

Together, they wept, both holding one hand over that bright red heart.

 But that was before.

* * *

  " _You killed them?!”_

Asgore stood in shock, his arms holding a glass canister, one his Royal Scientist had given him.

Within it was a bright, glowing, _human_ soul.

Toriel was blocking his way to the basement, her hands already on fire, her eyes also seeming just as bright.

  “I...” he began, but she raised one hand and flung a chain of fire at him, hitting him on the shoulder and burning through his robes. The acrid smell of burnt cloth, fur and hair filled the room, but he didn’t flinch or move away. It hurt, a lot, but still he stood.

 _“Why, Dreemurr?!”_ she sobbed, her now-cool hand reaching forward and pressing against the glass of the canister. _“Why would you do this?!”_

 “Tori...”

_"Why?!”_

Asgore looked at her helplessly. “It was the only way. We need human souls to break the barrier. The child wouldn’t give up, so I had to... I... had to...”

Toriel’s tears spilled over.

“Didn’t I?” he added, sounding confused, and now feeling it.

Toriel drew back from him, as though slapped. She was shaking her head, her eyes so wide and full they were all he could see.

“Asgore, I can’t...” She shut her eyes once, then went on, sounding like every word was breaking her heard. “Do you... do you plan on continuing with this madness?!”

Asgore looked down at the soul he held, his heart wrenching at the sight.

“Because if you do, Asgore... I.... I can’t stay here. I can’t watch you kill children. Don’t you understand what you’ve done? Why would you do this, Asgore?! After losing your _own_ children...!”

Asgore shut his eyes tight, feeling his body start shaking. “We... we must be free.”

Then, silence. When he looked up, she was gone.            

* * *

Now, Toriel said, “Asgore sometimes seems like an enigma, does he not? One moment he’s full of love and care, the next he turns into something completely alien and terrifying.”

Alphys looked surprised. “Y-yes, exactly!” she agreed. “He’s so kind, so gentle, but he can be so _ruthless_ , often without even thinking! And you’d think he would know better, but... er...”

Toriel nodded. “He pushes it aside if it hinders his goal.”

Alphys looked at her hands, the claws chewed and uneven. “I... regret a lot of that. Allowing my affection, my own hopes, to blind me to what I was doing to innocent monsters.” She looked like she was about to be sick.

“Dr Alphys, it’s alright.”

“It _isn’t,”_ was the answer, her head lowered and her glasses once more fogged up. “I don’t know how _anyone_ could ever forgive me, how they ever even _could_ forgive me. Es-especially...”

“Undyne,” Toriel supplied easily. She had seen Alphys gaze at the warrior when she thought no one else was watching, the gaze a mix of tender love and fear of rejection.

Alphys went bright red. “I hurt her, too. Could have hurt her even _more_ if she had... if she had...”

Toriel didn’t understand that. She had thought, when it came to her fellow teachers, she knew all that there was to know. But now Alphys was confusing her with this conjecture.

Instead of saying so, she simply said, “You’d be surprised, Doctor.”

Which was also true. When Alphys was hard at work, or in the midst of a lecture, or sitting alone to eat because she didn’t want to impose on anyone, Undyne was always looking at her, either entranced by the scientist’s passion, or with tenderness that she showed no one else, not even Papyrus.

Every time Alphys sat alone, Undyne made a point of always sitting with her (usually accompanied by Papyrus). This usually caused Alphys to become so flustered she forgot to eat, but the happiness on her face was so bright that it was lovely.

Undyne’s expression, however, never changed from its tenderness, despite how blind Alphys was to it.

Alphys was definitely loved back.

“She kissed me, once,” Alphys blurted out suddenly. “On the surface, at the beach.”

Toriel knew. It had been only a few weeks prior, and Greater Dog had seen the whole thing, later pantomiming all of it to her with excited yipping.

Instead of admitting it, though, she asked, “Was it what you’d hoped for?”

Suddenly, Alphys’s whole face lit up, so bright and happy, that it made her look stunning. She practically beamed with love, and Toriel sipped her mocha with a smile.

Alphys resumed her watch of her hands, her smile wide and unrestrained, her face red, still. "Better,” she murmured. “So much better." Her smile faded. "I'd thought... when that happened, it meant we were together, th-than she liked me, b-but..."

She paused, then blinked in surprise, looking mortified. “Ah! Queen Toriel! I’m so sorry! We were supposed to-to be talking about _Asgore!”_

Toriel smiled brightly. If she were to be honest – and she usually was – listening to the budding love story between Alphys and Undyne was quite better than discussing Asgore. Ever since the two had met, the Underground had been abuzz with rumours. Everyone had love for both women, and seeing them together was like seeing two halves a whole finally find each other.

Undyne knew this, and made it no secret; if only Alphys would be confident enough to see it, too. Because Alphys's assumption of Undyne's feelings had been correct. But Alphys, herself, couldn't believe it, quite yet, so they, for now, remained at this frustrating impasse, both too shy to make the next move.

“Alright.” Toriel waved a hand indulgently. “We can change topics.”

Looking relieved, Alphys then took a long gulp of her latte before saying, rather breathlessly, “But saying what I’ve said, Your Majesty--,”

“If you must use a title, please use Headmistress, dear.”

Alphys paused, then looked to the side, smiling. “Asgore corrects me, too. ‘Groundskeeper,’ he always says, when I slip up and call him ‘King’. Did you know how many emails he sends me about how wonderful it is to be surrounded by plants? He also loves never having to use attack magic anymore. And the kids? Oh, he loves the kids.”

Toriel listened silently as Alphys went on, describing a man who longed to be a father to every child he met in the school. She realised how much he seemed to miss being a father, maybe almost as much as she missed being a mother.

Her cycles, alongside her ageing, had ended with Asriel’s death, so she knew children were no longer an option. But then, after Asriel and Chara, perhaps she wasn’t so sure she wanted to be a mother again.

Except to Frisk. She would always have room in her heart for Frisk.

“He still loves you, Your Headmistress.”

Toriel looked up in shock. Alphys was looking at her quite frankly.

“He...” Toriel looked away. “I know.”

“Don’t you love him?”

“He killed children, Alphys.”

“But he regrets it. And is doing everything he can to make amends, thanks to you. I know... I know how hard that is to do.”

“Thanks to me?” Toriel echoed, tilting her head a little.

Alphys grinned. “Yes! By giving him that job! Have you seen how the children love him? Did you see that one time he was decorated like a Christmas tree?” When Alphys giggled at the memory, Toriel couldn’t help but laugh a little, too.

The thing was, she knew this. She knew better than anyone.

“You still love him, don’t you, Your Headmistress?”

Alphys was looking at her with a calm face, her eyes wide behind her glasses. Toriel stared back, her mouth slightly open, as if Alphys had just made a fighting dummy disappear.

 “I...” She shifted in her seat. “I find this topic... distasteful.”

Alphys blushed deeply, mumbled her apologies, and resumed eating. Toriel watched her, wondering how Alphys, a monster who never seemed to catch signals thrown towards her in obvious ways, always seemed to catch signals between others.

Because there was no denying it: it was true. Asgore _had_ changed.

And Toriel loved him for it.

* * *

The following day, the last day of the school week, Toriel found herself watching him closely, trying to assess her feelings within her breast when she looked at him.

He was humming happily, clipping his latest hedge-art: a perfect example of Papyrus’s face. The skeleton in question stood close by, supervising.

“NO, NO,” he would say once and a while. “MY SMILE IS MUCH WIDER. WIDER!”

 “If I make it wider, it will be nothing _but_ smile.”

 “I’M FINE WITH THIS. I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, THE GREATEST ROYAL GUARD ON THE SURFACE, AM KNOWN FOR MY GLORIOUS SMILE, REGARDLESS OF THE AMOUNT OF TEETH I MAY ACTUALLY HAVE.”

 Asgore shrugged and did as he was asked, successfully ruining a normal-looking Papyrus and making it an all-teeth Papyrus.

 “wow,” sans said, suddenly appearing from behind it. “that’s quite a stretch. and rather horrifying, really.”

 “NOBODY ASKED YOU.”

 “but they should. my opinions matter.”

 “NOT WHEN IT COMES TO TOPIARY DISPLAYS OF MY FEARFUL SNARL!”

 Asgore was grinning, watching the exchange and holding the shears closed for now, as the two brothers bickered. (Or, rather, Papyrus bickered, and sans turned his words into bad puns.)

 Toriel watched from the window, waiting for the final class of the day to start, but also using the time to watch Asgore.

 “do you really have that many teeth?”

“THEY’RE OBVIOUSLY EXAGGERATED TO INSTILL FEAR, BROTHER!”

“Pardon me,” Asgore broke in. “But to instill fear for whom?”

“UHH...” Papyrus scratched his bony cheekbone, then stood up straighter in his trademark pose. “FOR ANYONE TRYING TO CROSS THIS SCHOOL WITH NEGATIVITY IN THEIR HEARTS! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, HAVE A SMILE THAT WILL TURN EVIL INTO LAUGHTER!”

“trust my brother to think of something impossible, huh?”

Toriel rested her cheek on her hand, leaning on the open windowsill as she watched, unaware of the silly smile playing on her lips. Asgore was smiling happily, which was clearly contagious. There was something oddly charming about this entire exchange, especially with Asgore there to add his own opinions.

“SOME HUMANS STILL HATE US. THIS IS FOR THEM!”

“Wouldn’t it be better to put something happy, here, instead?” Asgore wondered, using the handle of the shears to scratch his head.

“AH, BUT FOR EVERYONE ELSE, YOUR GROUNDSKEEPERNESS, THIS _IS_ HAPPY!”

Toriel heard movement behind her and turned to find Frisk there, early as usual. After a big hug and an update on their day, Frisk joined Toriel at the window to resume watching.

“Oh, this again?” Frisk snorted. “There’s another one just as ruined in the back. Papyrus is planning to make two more for each direction of the school.”

“And Asgore is fine with this?”

Frisk laughed in reply, and Toriel smiled, realising the question was silly: of course Asgore would be fine with it.

“Mami Tori?”

 “Hm?” Toriel was gazing at Asgore again, finding it remarkable how the sun seemed to make his greying blond hair almost glitter in its light.

Why had she never noticed that before?            

“Oh.” Frisk joined her at her side at once, following her gaze. “Watching Papi Gorey?”

Toriel was now staring at Frisk. She’d never heard that name before, but Frisk said it so calmly and cheerfully that it was clear they had been using it for a while, and it came quite easily to them.

Had Frisk accepted Asgore as a father? Like they had Toriel their mother?

“Yes,” Toriel finally agreed, finding no reason to hide it, especially from Frisk.

A loud shout interrupted whatever Frisk wanted to say next. Undyne was storming across the grass, spear in hand, looking furious.

 _“Papyrus!”_ she shouted.

The skeleton in question looked sheepish instantly, turning to Undyne in a slightly-cowered way. “YES, UNDYNE?”

Undyne marched right up to him and stood so close that only her spear separated them. “I have twenty brats waiting for you to get to teaching them! You know, your _job?!_ ”

“WELL, AS YOU CAN SEE, I HAD SOME IMPORTANT BUSINESS HERE--,”

“I don’t care!” was Undyne’s final comment, grabbing him by the wrist and dragging him away, keeping her spear pointed backwards at him lest he tried to escape.

“She hasn’t changed much,” Asgore laughed, watching them go.

“you’d be surprised,” sans replied mysteriously. “talked to alphys lately?”

“Yes. I told her that she had quite a following on the internets, one of those social things. She didn’t believe me.”

sans was silent for a moment, staring at him, before shrugging and spreading his hands in defeat. He turned and took off in the opposite direction, though once he walked past a tree, he was gone.

Confused, Asgore again used the shear’s handle to scratch his head, before turning back to the monstrosity before him. He still had to finish it, after all.

“Mami,” Frisk said now.

“Yes, my dear?”

“Admit you love him, please.”

“Without question,” she agreed without pause, feeling embarrassed for finally saying it aloud, but again, she could never lie to Frisk.

Frisk gently placed a hand upon Toriel’s, and Toriel held it with a smile.

Completely oblivious, Asgore continued to work. Luckily, by that point, class had started, and Toriel allowed herself to be distracted away from the window by the job she loved the most.

But Asgore must have sensed something, because he paused and looked over at the open window, listening to Toriel teach passionately. He leaned against Papyrus’s grassy face and just listened, hearing the excitement and happiness in her voice, the tones ones he hadn’t heard in a very long time.

He lowered his head, feeling his throat close up and his eyes burn. He tried to calm down, but it was too difficult; Toriel’s voice was like a melody, almost like Shyren’s, but more powerful for him, washing over him and making him feel long-dead feelings once more, that yearning, longing love.

He desperately wanted her back.

* * *

 When the school day ended, and Toriel was locking up the school for the night, Frisk at her side, Asgore walked over awkwardly, feeling like an intruder. Frisk looked up, smiled brightly, and ran to embrace him, the force of the hug so hard he almost lost his balance and breath. He wheezed a little, but he hugged back.

“Now, now, Frisk,” Toriel chastised, with a note of humour in her voice. “I still need him to fix the gutters next week, so please smother him once that is finished.”

 “Tori...” he rasped out. He loved many things about his job, but cleaning the gutters was not one of them. “Frisk, go ahead and smother me.”

Frisk laughed in delight, squeezing harder, knowing no amount would topple him. In reply, Asgore easily scooped Frisk up and placed them on his shoulders, where they sat amidst a giggle fit, hands tangling into his hair at once.

Toriel watched them with a tender expression on her face. Before she even thought of it, she said, “Why don’t you come by for a while and have some tea, maybe even some supper, with us?”

 Asgore and Frisk stared at her as one unit. Toriel blushed, then turned away and waved them forward, already starting her way down the street (the house she shared with Frisk was only a fifteen minute walk from the school).

Frisk looked down at Asgore, who looked up at Frisk. Frisk nodded with a grin, but Asgore merely felt nervous.

As they walked, Asgore and Frisk talked, mostly about Frisk’s studies, but once that topic was exhausted, it oddly turned to politics.

“So, it was so stupid, but I had to explain _again_ why and why not.”

“You’d think they’d be smart enough to know that already, don’t you think?”   

Frisk rolled their eyes. “They’ve been doing it for so long, and they forgot you were even there, Papi. So of course they have trouble connecting the fact that ‘toxic dumping in the waters’ would affect ‘monsters underground that they forgot they had’.”

“How silly,” Asgore agreed.

“I know!” Frisk exclaimed, throwing their hands up in the air and growling in frustration.

This exchange went on for a while, Toriel staying silent. She kept her face away, ensuring that neither saw the tears threatening to spill over. If Frisk saw, all they would do would try and dry them, but if Asgore saw them... she was afraid of his reaction the most, whether it was for him to run away with excuses, or worse, comforting her. She couldn’t handle either of these.

Once at the house, Frisk slid down from Asgore’s shoulders and took his hand, then took Toriel’s in the other. Above Frisk’s head, their eyes met, and Asgore finally saw the tears that Toriel had forgotten to hide. She looked away quickly, using the excuse to unlock the door.

Asgore knew what he had seen, however, and as he followed Frisk into the house, he knew exactly what to do about them.

“Frisk, go wash your hands, dear,” Toriel reminded them. Frisk scowled, protesting that their hands were clean enough to use utensils, but when Toriel raised an eyebrow, they went, grumbling all the same.

Toriel smiled, watching Frisk go. “Tonight, I’ve made Frisk a special kind of human pie, with the kind of meat they like, but I also made snail pie for myself.” She looked up at Asgore, who stood staring at her, again that haunted expression on his face. “You can... have some with me...”

She paused, looking closely into his face. “Asgore... Are you alright?”

 Asgore shook his head. He walked over, stood in front of her, and cupped her face between his hands. She stared at him in shock, her eyes filling again, unable to utter a word to this sudden intimacy.

So much stood between them, so much pain and loss...

“Asgore...” Toriel whispered, looking away. “Frisk is here, and--,”

He shook his head and kissed her.

Toriel stood frozen, her eyes wide and still on his, tears running down her cheeks. But then, something blazed deep within them, and her arms went around his waist so tightly it shocked him. She was kissing him back, now, in a way Asgore remembered, in a way Toriel remembered. Only this time, it was so much sweeter, so much more potent, than ever before. It was like kissing for breath, for life, for here and now but also for then and later.

By now, both were in tears, standing in the still-dark hallway of Toriel’s Aboveground home, this kiss so much more than just a kiss, something they both knew there was no going back from.

Frisk stood in the doorway of the washroom, hands still soapy, a smile playing on their lips, but their eyes were also teary.

It was Toriel who pulled away, first, but Asgore still held her face, and she searched his eyes almost desperately. It was a look that made her look both young and ancient.

“Gorey...” she whispered.

He leaned in and pressed his forehead to hers, closing his eyes at the name. She reached up and touched his forearms with an iron grip, pressing her forehead back, biting her lip.

“I... I’m so _confused_ , Gorey.”

“Me, too,” he agreed.

“What are we to do now?”

In response, Asgore merely kissed her again, surrendering to her warmth. She kissed him back, for a moment, unable to help herself, years and years of dormant emotions bubbling up within her.

When Asgore pulled way this time, it was to let go of her face, wrap his arms around her, and bury his face into the soft fur at the curve of her neck. Toriel shut her eyes tight, this also so familiar it hurt.

 “I never stopped loving you, Tori," he whispered. "I wasn’t lying when I told you that a year ago.”

“I know, because it was the same for me, too, Gorey. But... I just... I was _so angry_ at you. After seeing our children die, for you to kill _more_...”

Asgore flinched, moving to break away from her at this, but Toriel held him tight, digging her fingers in, keeping him in place.

“But _now_...” she continued. “Now, I see. When you’re with Frisk. When you’re with the other children, monster and human alike... I know you’d never, _ever_ consider taking another child’s life, ever again.”

As she said it, she knew it to be true at last. Though some anger still lingered, and always would, the feelings she felt now, the truth she knew now, made her positive without a doubt.

“Tori...” he whispered it, his voice hoarse with tears, clutching her as close as he could.

“Come home,” she answered tearfully, before finally breaking down and allowing her tears to break loose. Asgore stood his full height and held her close, her sobs shaking his own free.

Soon, small arms wrapped around their legs. Both Toriel and Asgore reached down and placed a hand each on Frisk’s head, Asgore’s atop Toriel’s. Frisk squeezed their legs tight, shaking with tears of their own, and for that moment, it was as if they were one unit, weeping for a past long gone, irrevocably shattered and stacked with regrets.

But with Frisk there, Asgore and Toriel felt something else, stronger than that grief.

Before them suddenly opened a future, one in which Frisk would grow up a child of monsters but also purely human, raised by the former monarchs of the Underground, but schooled upon the surface of their birth. Through Frisk, Asgore and Toriel would finally be able to bury their past, allowing their future to reside within Frisk, as well as themselves. They would raise Frisk just like they had their other children, only now, they knew better, they knew _how_. And Frisk would grow to adulthood a strong, fierce, loving and cheerful warrior, a perfect amalgamation of human and monster, who would finally become the future of the harmony of monsters and humans at last.

But that was later, much later. Now, there was pie to be served, and a family to grow again. As the three walked to the kitchen, they walked their first true steps of real unity between their two peoples.

And this time? There were and would be no regrets.

**THE END**


End file.
